


Copy-Cat Conflict

by orphan_account



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Blood, Dark, Dissociation, M/M, Murder, Sickness, Torture, Villains, Virus, epidemic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:26:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Why are you doing this?” Robbie asked. “What is your motive?””Motive?”the voice was silent for a moment.”My motive…”Robbie waited, not wanting to speak and give any important information away. He had a feeling that this person was manipulative, and could find answers in whatever Robbie said.The man was breathing on the other end, most likely thinking of a good answer. Maybe he did not know the correct word because of translation issues? Or maybe, he did not know what his motive was.”To destroy everyone.”





	1. Dissociation

**Author's Note:**

> So, I recently started watching Utopia (highly recommend it, by the way! It only has two seasons, but they are amazing!), and so this story has been a bit influenced by it. It was not inspired by it, but there are certain things that are very Utopia-esque. This story was actually inspired by Plague Inc, and this Cold War documentary I had to watch for class. And something else, but I don't want to say what that is yet, because it might spoil the story.
> 
> I was originally going to wait until I finished this entire story to post chapters, but I can't wait any longer. ALSO, Mr. Po Bably is an original character, who is very near and dear to my heart. Long story, don't ask. It's an inside joke. :'3
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Comments and kudos are appreciated, but not mandatory! And if, in the future, anyone wants anything tagged that has not been tagged, please let me know!

It was a cold, winter morning. Grey clouds littered the sky above, and snow threatened to fall with each passing breath. Around him were tall buildings, skyscrapers, and a very prominent lack of plant life. There were a few bushes planted here and there; sad excuses that the industrial revolution tried to say was its effort to _go green._ Cars sped down the streets, honking at pedestrians trying to cross the road. The stoplight above one street began to flicker from years of abuse, and because nobody had ever bothered to check if it still worked. 

Briefcase in hand, he did not blink as a car crashed into another because of the faulty stoplight. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet of chewing gum, placing a piece into his mouth. Screams sounded around him as he began to chew. Bright colors flashed around his eyes, contrasts to the dull atmosphere. He relished the minty, sugary flavor of the gum, and walked across the street towards a large corporate building. The contents in his briefcase rattled a bit, which he supposed could be a cause for concern.

Looking at his reflection in the glass door of the building, silver eyes stared back with intent to get things done. He pushed a stray hair back where it belonged. Pulling out a card from his coat pocket, Robbie slid it into the door’s lock. It read the card, granting him entry, and he nudged the door open with a polished shoe. There were no kind greetings, no simple pleasantries, nor any acknowledgement than anyone in this building had lives that mattered. 

Robbie got in the elevator, pressing a button for the thirteenth floor (yes, thirteenth. Superstitions were for normal people). When he arrived to the correct floor, he swiftly made his way towards a large office. Opening the door loudly, he walked to the back of the room where his chair was. Everyone who had been speaking went silent, watching him carefully. Placing his briefcase onto the table, he sat down in his chair and leaned forward onto his elbows.

“Would anyone care to tell me how the press managed to release an entire article on the Medea Virus?”

Some of the employees swallowed in nervousness. Surely they had to at least have _some_ excuse? They _did_ know he would find out about this, right?

“Sir,” one man began. “We thought that we had gotten rid of him-“

“Yes, well you didn’t, did you?” Robbie snapped. 

Silence filled the room. The workers looked at each other, some in fear and some looking for answers. Nobody knew what to do or say. They were fearful of their jobs, or even their lives. Some had families to look after, while some did not. However, each person was aware of how serious their jobs were, and a wrong response could warrant their deaths.

“Did you really think I would be stupid enough to fall for that filed assassination bullshit you handed me the other day?” Robbie looked around the room in accusation, his voice calm but his tone lethal. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“The man was shot, three times, in his head, stomach, and chest,” one worked said. “I’ve seen it for myself.”

“Yes, because your word has proven to be so credible,” Robbie rolled his eyes. “I am aware that _a_ man was shot. However, that was not the man that tipped off the press, now was it?”

The workers all looked at each other in concern. The situation was much more dire than any of them had anticipated, and seeing their boss so calmly furious was unsettling. He was generally much more brash, and vocal when he was upset. 

“Now, I will have all of you know that I have taken care of the press myself,” Robbie announced, flicking a piece of lint off of the table. “However, people have already seen the article, and therefore are becoming suspicious. They do not know it is us, I’ve made sure of that, but if their curiosity grows the _will_ find out, and we cannot allow for that to happen. So, what are all of you to do about this?”

Some opened their mouths, only to close them. They did not know the right answer, and would not take the risk of guessing. Robbie pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“You are going to go back to your stations after this meeting and _do your damn jobs,”_ Robbie said coldly. “Now, I have a sample of phase two in this briefcase, and you are all to make sure that we get this out and about without anyone knowing.”

“How exactly do you plan to do that?” one asked. “Everyone knows that the virus exists, so if we send out more packaged food laced with this stuff they will know it’s us.”

“No, they won’t,” Robbie corrected. “Phase two of the virus has no side effects.”

“Then why-“

“All you need to know is that we can not continue with phase three if phase two is unsuccessful,” Robbie interrupted. “Your priority as of right now is phase two’s success.”

“Is this all the information we are allowed to receive on the matter?” one woman asked.

“Yes,” Robbie said firmly. “No risks can be taken.”

One of the requirements to work at this place was to sign a contract stating that the person would never share information with anyone other than Mr. Rotten. Each worker was given a certain task; an area to work in where all information was confidential. They could not share any of their information or research with any of their coworkers, or else they would pay with their lives. This way, it was easy to weed out anyone who might give out information to the public. 

“Now, each of you will be given your usual amount of information,” Robbie stated. “Do your jobs, and everything will go swimmingly. And if anymore information gets to the press…well, some of you may end up on my list.”

He gave them all a fake smile, grabbed his briefcase and left the room. He hated meetings, but sometimes they were necessary. His workers were getting a little bit too comfortable than he preferred, and so he held the meeting to make sure they were all on their toes. Robbie walked down towards his office, opening the door with the intention to have a minute of relaxation. However, when he saw a short, balding man sitting in his chair, he knew that his relaxation would have to be postponed. 

“Get out of my chair, Mr. Bably,” Robbie muttered. 

“Robbie, we need to talk,” Mr. Bably said, getting up and sitting down in the chair across from Robbie’s. “There is a situation that needs to be taken care of.”

“If this is about the press, I’ve already handled it,” Robbie sighed, setting his briefcase down.

Mr. Bably shook his head, “It’s not.”

Sitting down in his large leather chair, Robbie pushed a red button by his desk.

“Solla, would you be a dear and tell Mr. Jives that I have phase two in my office, and that he needs to come get it right away?” he spoke into the intercom.

“Yes sir!” was his secretary’s reply.

Robbie looked up at Mr. Bably, folding his hands on the top of his desk. Mr. Bably was a fine dressed man, very rich, and had a slight addiction to bananas. He was smoking a cigar, which Robbie did not appreciate. The ashtray was only there to add to character; he never used it. Robbie had tried to smoke once when he was younger, and that had been the last time he’d tried. It was nasty.

“The government has already started on a cure,” Mr. Bably puffed out some smoke. “They are taking this as a serious threat, and are already making a move.”

“That’s because it’s not their virus,” Robbie replied. “They’re hypocrites.”

Robbie smoothed out his yellow suit, noticing the way Mr. Bably’s eyes dilated. His banana addiction was a bit unsettling at times. Pulling out a calligraphy pen that he used to sign documents, he began twirling it in his fingers.

“Yes, but they will figure it out at some point,” Mr. Bably said. “And because of the article that was published, they are starting sooner than we thought they were. If they find a cure before we can give it to them, this whole plan will go down the sewer.”

“I’m aware,” Robbie sighed. “Mr. Bably, did you really think that I haven’t thought of all possible outcomes? I’ve spent _years_ planning this epidemic, and I’m not about to let our government ruin it.”

Mr. Bably leaned back in his chair, “What are you planning to do, exactly?”

“Phase two,” Robbie said, gesturing towards his briefcase. “We cure their sickness. They will let their guards down because the situation is not as dire. The government may continue to study it, but not as urgently.”

Mr. Bably’s eyebrows raised, impressed. Robbie leaned back in his chair and rocked in it absentmindedly, looking around his clean office. He was not a tidy man himself, but that was why he had a secretary. She would clean up his candy wrappers and ripped documents, and he knew all confidential information was safe because that was all hidden in a completely different location. He was not stupid.

“On top of that, phase two will lower their immune system’s capabilities,” Robbie smirked. “So when we give them phase three, their reactions will be twice as severe.”

“I’m impressed, Mr. Rotten,” Mr. Bably chuckled. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“That still doesn’t fix the other problem.”

_Other problem?_

Robbie frowned, “What other problem?”

Mr. Bably smirked, “I thought you were aware of all the possible outcomes?”

Robbie’s eye twitched in annoyance. He did not appreciate Mr. Bably’s wit, and at times found the man very aggravating. Had he not proven to be a useful asset, Robbie would have done away with him a long time ago. 

“Tell me, Po,” Robbie growled.

Mr. Bably put out his cigar in the ashtray on Robbie’s desk. With a cough, he leaned forward in his seat.

“There is another virus.”

Robbie’s eyes widened, “Is it man made?”

“Yes.”

Robbie stood up abruptly, tapping his chin in thought. He had not thought of that. Who would make another virus at the same time he was? This didn’t make any sense. The only people he knew who would go so far as to make a virus was the American government, and he made sure that they occupied themselves with other issues instead.

Robbie jumped a bit when a knock sounded on his door, and called for them to enter. Mr. Jives walked in, and Robbie gestured towards the briefcase. Jives reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small black container. He left the room without a single word, ready to begin with phase two.

“What are you planning to do about this, Robert?” Mr. Bably questioned as Mr. Jives left.

“It’s Mr. Rotten to you. For now,” Robbie murmured. “We wait it out. I’ll have people keep an eye on it, but we can’t do anything until we know a bit more. What information do we already have on it?”

“Not much,” Mr. Bably hummed. “I personally don’t know a lot about it, but the scientists down in lab three are working on it as we speak.”

Robbie nodded, making his way towards the door. He gestured for Mr. Bably to follow him, holding the door open politely. Mr. Bably walked out, and the two wordlessly made their way to lab three. As always, no one greeted him or Mr. Bably, and simply continued on with their work. Opening the large door to lab three, the two men entered and watched as a small group of scientists quickly shuffled around the place. Mr. Bably led him over to where one scientist, a middle-aged man named Goggi was analyzing some sort of data. He was bald, and wearing extremely thick glasses.

“Goggi,” Mr. Bably said, startling the man. “Show Mr. Rotten what you have found about the second virus.”

Goggi nodded, “Y-yes! Well, we don’t know much, since we have not found a useable sample of it. We’ve only been able to study the patterns and side-effects it has been causing.”

“Then how do you know it is man made?” Robbie questioned.

Goggi hummed, “When it began, it was nearly untraceable. In fact, most would think it did not exist. Slowly, over the course of the last few months, the virus began to emerge. Symptoms began to show themselves, and in the span of only a few _days_ it started to spread.”

Robbie frowned, “How is that distinguishable?”

“Viruses do not generally sit in someone’s body for months without showing themselves. Usually their effects begin to show after a week or two. There are very few viruses that take so long to work,” Goggi said simply. “But another reason we know it is man made is because of the _way_ it is spreading.”

He turned to his computer, pulling up a map of the earth. There were small red dots littering areas of the entire planet, especially in Europe and America, and every so often a new one would appear.

“This is a map of all of the areas that virus has affected,” Goggi said. “The person who made it was clever, only dosing it out in areas of transportation; like airports or shipping docks. They actually only planted two key areas for the virus, and it spread on its own. What gave it away, however, is that the virus began at the exact same time in two completely different areas.”

_That is ingenious…_

“So, do you know where the virus began?” Robbie asked. “That way we might be able to figure out who is doing it.”

Goggi swallowed, removing his glasses, “Yes, we do know.”

Mr. Bably shifted beside Robbie, and Robbie raised an eyebrow.

“The virus began in…” Goggi cleared his throat. “Well, as ironically as it is…”

Robbie waited.

“That virus began in Russia, s-sir.”

There was a long moment of silence. Goggi was trembling in fear of his boss’ reaction, and Mr. Bably was torn between just leaving and licking Robbi’s suit. It was just so _yellow_. Robbie, however, felt his mind flat-line. The gears stopped turning for a brief moment, before slowly beginning again. 

“Well _shit.”_

~*~

They watched the virus for a few more days, proceeded with phase two as planned. What was annoying about the new virus was that it had yet to be discovered by the press, and instead the focus was on the Medea virus instead. Robbie was very frustrated, to say the least, but impressed that his rival had managed to keep his epidemic a secret for so long. Had it not been because of his company’s high-tech software and engineering, some swiped from the FBI and a few secret agencies that _mysteriously disappeared,_ Robbie would have never found out about the virus. 

However, he did find out, and now he was determined to stop it. Robbie did not need a second virus to thwart his elaborate plan. No, he had to end this.

Walking into his office, Robbie pulled out his laptop from his briefcase. Setting it onto his desk, he began to fill out a new file. He anonymously wrote down all of the information that had been gathered by his scientists, evening mentioning where it had spread from. The only thing he did not list was that it was man made, because he would not need to. No, when the other person saw this, they would know that he knew. They would know that he was out to get them, and that they should be ready when he does.

Robbie kept a mental list of the employees he had in his company branches. He had the employees that worked there because they thought it was a normal job, and then he had the employees that knew the truth. Those were the ones he had spent years picking and choosing, making sure none of them were tied down by anything. They were the ones who knew the full plan.

Robbie sent the document to one of his company’s branches in Moscow, making sure that his true employer was the one who got it. She would know what to do, and who to give it to. 

Now, all he could do was wait and enjoy the show.

As the day went on, nothing happened, but he did not expect it to. Instead of massive panic, there was peaceful silence. At four, as he did every day, Robbie got up and made his rounds. He eyed what everyone was doing; making sure that the plan was coming along smoothly. Luckily, everyone seemed to heed his warning and was carefully doing their jobs without delay.

As Robbie was exiting the building, he caught Mr. Jive’s eye. Mr. Jives nodded one curt nod, and Robbie nodded back in understanding.

_They got the message._

Pleased, Robbie left without a word. He walked across the street, that stoplight still flickering now and then, and headed in the direction of a parking lot. Getting in a fairly run-down looking truck, Robbie watched people pass by his car without a second thought. As much as he would have preferred to have a luxury car, which would only bring him unwanted attention. Instead, he settled with the most unattractive vehicle he could access at the time. It was not ideal, but it was necessary.

Robbie drove home. Where he lived was not where people expected. Most people assumed he lived somewhere in the city, or even somewhere just outside. They thought he lived in a large house in some cute little neighborhood, or maybe in a condo on the top of a large building. These people had no idea that he actually lived an hour and a half away. He did not even live in a house. No. 

Robbie lived in a bunker. A _giant_ bunker, that served as an entire house built completely underground. It had apparently been built by some maniac a few decades prior; back when the Cold War had been prominent in everyone’s lives. It had been abandoned and forgotten after that man had died, and Robbie had just happened to stumble across it in his youth. He had everything he could ever need, other than sunlight. Nobody knew where he lived, or even that this area existed. He debugged all of his electronics, making sure that nobody could ever trace him. This was why he did not mind using his real name. Even if people did know who he was, they would never be able to find him. His license plate was even untraceable.

After showering and getting down into his pajamas, he sat down in the large orange chair in his living room and turned on the TV. Robbie fingered an amethyst stud that was in his left ear. He had thought about getting both of his ears pierced, but he thought that the look of only one was interesting. 

Flipping through channels, he finally settled on a local (well, not local for him) news channel. They were covering his virus’ epidemic, but he was pleased to see that they had not even gathered all of the symptoms as of yet. His plan was still safe.

Robbie grabbed a small container of pills beside him, taking one with a sip of tea. His energy had depleted as the day went by, and he had to make sure it returned. He continued watching the news, chuckling at a few of their guesses as to what was happening, and began to feel himself doze.

He nearly spilled tea all over himself when his phone rang.

Looking over at the orange telephone, he frowned. Sometimes telemarketers would call him by accident, and he would simply hang up. However, there was always that inkling of fear that someone had figured out his number, and Robbie was always a bit paranoid. Thinking that it would just be another call asking him if he wanted car insurance, he answered.

Before he could even say hello, a raspy, male voice spoke in a thick Russian accent.

_“You are silly little person.”_

Robbie pulled the phone away from his ear, and stared at it with a frown. This was not a telemarketer. However, Robbie was not stupid. He did not answer, afraid they might get his voice recognition from it, and instead waited for the other man to speak. He pulled out his laptop, hoping to trace the call.

_”I know where you are.”_

Ah, so they were calling about the other virus. This was interesting.

_”I will be coming for you.”_

The other person hung up, and Robbie realized he had stopped breathing. His computer failed to trace the call, which meant that the other person was also not an idiot. He could only assume it was the creator who called him; given the thick accent he spoke with. They did not know where he was, though. They only knew his number. 

Robbie stared at the orange phone with confusion and apprehension in his eyes. How did someone manage to get a hold of his number? He only used that to make untraceable calls. And that was just it! His phone was untraceable, so _how_ had someone traced it? 

Looking up at the TV he saw the news reporter get new documents, and watched her eyes grow wide.

“This just in,” she spoke in a shocked tone. “A new epidemic, now known as the Chernabog Flu, has already spread throughout Russia and through most of Europe, as well as several major cities in America. It is not known how it is being spread at this time, but from the information we have just received it appears to have spread from Moscow and St. Petersburg, while its origins remain unknown.”

Robbie’s eyes widened, not thinking that the information would have spread as fast as it did. He saw a map of Russia appear behind the reporter, with little red dots where the virus was most prominent. The virus had been planted in the two most populated cities in Russia. It was a smart move, especially after seeing just how quickly it had spread. The Medea virus had only just begun to touch other continents, whereas the Chernabog Flu was already across the globe. 

Whoever Robbie was going to have to deal with was not someone to take lightly. 

Robbie leaned back in his chair and twirled a large, initialed ring in his thumb. He relished the sight of the news reporter’s obvious concern, and wondered how many more times he would see her expression that way. Or even, would he see her face at all? She could become _sick,_ after all. Robbie’s eyes shined as he stared at the words _CHERNABOG FLU,_ and he smirked.

“This is going to be fun.”


	2. Strawberry Syrup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was skimming this over today, and realized "oh...I can actually end this chapter here." I don't know when the next one will be out, but hopefully soon. :D

_Three weeks later_

Robbie stood across the street from his workplace, sucking on a small lollipop. He watched as people walked past him robotically, each heading to their own destinations. Cars drove across the street in front of him, that stoplight still flickering. The skies were blue, the sun beaming down on Robbie’s pale skin. Despite all of the noise around him, Robbie felt a bit dissociated. He felt nothing when a motorcycle nearly crashed into a car form the stoplight, nor did he really hear anything more than muffled noise when that person began yelling. 

Robbie walked across the street then, making his way through the cars expertly. Once he arrived at the door, he slid his card into the lock. It granted him entry, and with one last look at his reflection, he went inside. His employees did not greet him, but he watched them carefully. He gave Mr. Jives, who a few feet away, a curt nod. Mr. Jives nodded in return, and went to shadow Robbie.

Robbie licked the lollipop in his hand slowly, eyes glazed over as he surveyed the room. The entire place was white, with small pops of color from various appliances. There was a single plant in the corner of the room, but it did not do much to combat the very corporate feel of the place. Slowly, Robbie walked into the elevator and headed to his office, with Mr. Jives close behind him.

Later, he made his way into the lab to check on the progress on the Chernabog Flu, showing that not much had happened over the course of the last few weeks. A few were sick, some hospitalized from other complications, but no one had died from it. The symptoms itself were not severe, and Robbie wondered what his rival’s intentions were. He had not received another phone call, but he waited by the phone every night just in case.

At lunch, Robbie went down into the small cafeteria that the building had. His employees were not allowed to leave the building until work hours were over, and so he had the cafeteria built for everyone’s convenience. Mr. Jives still followed closely behind Robbie. They went to get some food, Mr. Jives only getting an apple, and Robbie getting a small sandwich and a piece of vanilla cake with some strawberry syrup. The two sat down at a small table with only two chairs, eating their food in absolute silence. Mr. Jives was sitting stiffly, slowly chewing on a bite of apple, while Robbie ate his sandwich as quickly as possible. It had lettuce on it. Robbie hated lettuce. However, it was necessary for survival, so he simply ate it without letting his mouth linger on the taste. The two had their eyes on every employee. Most kept to themselves, while some ate together in silence. No one spoke, no one exchanged pleasantries; they were only there to eat and get back to work as soon as possible. 

As Robbie swallowed his last bite of sandwich, his eyes stopped one man in particular. Their eyes caught, and all time stopped. The man quickly got up to stand, but flew back as a large red gash appeared on his forehead. Mr. Jives slowly put his gun back in his suit, and Robbie wiped his hands off on a napkin. No one said a word, only watched as a cleaning crew entered and dragged the man’s body away; his blood a stark contrast to the white tiled floor.

Robbie took the strawberry syrup on his tray, and watched as the red seeped into the cake he poured it on. Taking a fork, he stabbed into it and slowly took a bite. After he finished, he and Mr. Jives exited the cafeteria together. They parted ways after that; Mr. Jives going back to his position at the front of the building, and Robbie returning to his office.

Mr. Bably paid him a visit a couple of hours later, simply sitting down in the chair on the other side of Robbie’s desk. Robbie did not say a word, simply scrolling through news articles on his computer, his eyes darting back and forth as he read. 

“So,” Mr. Bably began. “I heard there was an accident in the cafeteria.”

“It was no accident,” Robbie replied, twirling a pen in his hand. 

“Who was it?” Mr. Bably asked, his voice low.

Robbie pulled up a tab, turned his computer around and showed Mr. Bably.

“Milford Meanswell,” Robbie stated from memory. “Fifty-six, two-hundred and thirty pounds, single, and has worked here for almost a decade.”

Mr. Bably lowered his glasses, his eyes wide, “Milford? _Really?”_

“Really,” Robbie turned his computer back around. “I have multiple sources and evidence of his betrayal to this cause.”

Mr. Bably shook his head and leaned back, “I…I’m shocked. I never realized-“

“He was a spy during the Cold War,” Robbie commented. “I should have seen it coming, honestly.”

_”He was a spy?”_

Robbie nodded, “Why do you think I hired him?”

Mr. Bably chuckled, pulling out a cigar, “So, he was working for the government?”

“Don’t be stupid, Mr. Bably,” Robbie turned with a desperate expression. “Of course he doesn’t, why the hell would I have hired someone who was a spy for the American government?”

“I don’t know why you do half of the things you do, Mr. Rotten,” Mr. Bably replied. “But then, why was he the one who leaked information to the press?”

“During the Cold War, Milford was a soviet spy who had never been found out. He lived in the states for a number of years, even had a family,” Robbie stated, his eyes distant. “After the Cold War ended he returned back to Russia.”

Mr. Bably frowned.

“I’m not sure how this part all happened, since I was not there, but at some point Milford Meanswell was called in to spy for a different cause,” Robbie said airily. “And so he began to work for whoever is behind the Chernabog Flu. He came here with a brand new identity nearly ten years ago after I had started on my work, and has been spying on us since.”

“My god,” Mr. Bably’s eyes were wide. “So, whoever this other fellow is…he knows…everything?”

“Well,” Robbie smirked. “If he knew everything, then he would have ratted us out.”

Mr. Bably’s shoulders dropped as he sighed in relief. He let out a puff of smoke, looking down at the watch on his wrist.

“So, now that Milford is no longer with us, what are you planning to do about the situation?” Mr. Bably asked. “We still do not have any physical evidence of the Chernabog Flu, and so we can not do much more than simply watch it spread.”

Robbie nodded, still fiddling with the pen in his fingers. He had thought about this, sure, but he had yet to come up with a good solution. There was a number of things he _could_ do, but none of them were guaranteed to succeed or bring substantial information.

“Well, for now we continue with our original plan, until I come up with something,” Robbie hummed. “But at some point we will need to gather physical resources.”

“I agree,” Mr. Bably said. “So, when will phase three be ready?”

“In due time,” Robbie sighed. “Phase two has had a slight delay, and I want it to really _sink in.”_

“Literally?”

“Literally.”

~*~

Robbie had gotten back into his bunker later in the day than he usually did. He had to handle things with the police department after Milford Meanswell’s _accident._ It took a bit longer than he wished, but now everything was fine. No one would know any differently, other than the employees who had witnessed the ordeal. And they were bound by contract to never speak of it. Ever.

Pulling out a small bag of pills from his pocket, Robbie took one before he forgot. That was the last thing he needed. He sat down in his orange chair, flipping on the television with his remote. He was pleased to see that so far the news reporters had moved on to stories other than his rumored virus. They also added tidbits of information on the Chernabog Flu, and Robbie was thankful that their attention was all over that story instead. 

The evening went by as it normally did, and Robbie felt his gaze fall on his orange telephone. His eyes lingered on it, wishing that whoever had called him a few weeks prior would call again. He wanted to know what his agenda was, and the only way to do that was by direct communication. At least, until his scientists got a hold on some physical resources on the Chernabog Flu.

Robbie turned back to watch the television, reclining in his chair. He was growing tired from a hard day of work, and could feel his eyes begin to flutter closed. Just as his mind began to turn off, he was ripped from his near-slumber by the sound of his phone ringing. Turning to stare at it in a slight daze, he watched it blink at him expectantly. Slowly, Robbie reached over and picked it up.

_”You have been quiet, yes?”_

Robbie frowned, waiting.

_”I expected much more retaliation from you. Instead you just stay quiet.”_

“Who are you?” Robbie questioned.

There was a long, dead silence, and Robbie feared that the other had hung up. Then he heard a low chuckle, and he could almost _feel_ the other person grinning.

_”You are man.”_

Robbie frowned, “If you know who I am, then you would have already known that.”

_”I like man. They are strong.”_

Robbie made a face, leaning back in his recliner with the phone against his ear. The other man had an odd tone to his voice, one that had originally been hard to pinpoint because of his accent. He sounded, almost excited, like someone had just given him the best present in the universe. However, there was an undertone beneath that which made Robbie quake at the knees. It was unsettling.

“Why are you doing this?” Robbie asked. “What is your motive?”

 _”Motive?”_ the voice was silent for a moment. _”My motive…”_

Robbie waited, not wanting to speak and give any important information away. He had a feeling that this person was manipulative, and could find answers in whatever Robbie said. 

The man was breathing on the other end, most likely thinking of a good answer. Maybe he did not know the correct word because of translation issues? Or maybe, he did not know what his motive was.

_”To destroy everyone.”_

Robbie swallowed, his toes curling at the way he had growled his answer. Robbie reached up and loosened his tie. The colors around his room seemed more vibrant than normal, and yet he felt dull.

“Why?” Robbie asked.

 _“Nyet,”_ the man chided with a chuckle. _”That is secret.”_

“Why do you keep calling me?” Robbie demanded.

The voice hummed, and then the phone line went dead. Robbie pulled the phone from his ear and sighed. He wished he could track the call, but the other seemed to be as smart as he was. He needed to find this man. The other man knew where he was, or at least the general area, but Robbie knew absolutely nothing about him. It was a bit unsettling, and Robbie feared that his work would be sabotaged. The other man also said he wanted to destroy everyone, which was not what Robbie wanted. Well, maybe a few people…but not everyone.

This other man seemed like he was a bit more malicious than Robbie was.

Robbie watched the television was a dazed expression, not really paying attention to the news. Instead his mind was filled with thoughts of who the man on the other end of the phone line was. He could hear the man’s voice repeat word in his head, and he wondered if the other man thought Robbie’s accent was as strange as he thought the man’s was. 

A map appeared on the screen, showing an ever-growing Chernobog Flu epidemic. It had already covered most of the eastern side of America, and was slowly spreading across the continent. Robbie’s had spread as well, but not nearly as profoundly. The immanent threat of the other person was slowly growing larger, and Robbie knew he needed to stop it. He needed to find this man, and end his tyranny before he destroyed Robbie’s plan.

~*~

Standing across the street, Robbie watched cars go by as he sipped tea from a travel mug. There was a single yellow fire hydrant on the other side of the road, and it was a vibrant contrast to the dull surroundings of the area. The stoplight continued to flicker down the road, and Robbie waited patiently. As the stoplight accidentally flickered green, a car ended up wrapped around a telephone poll as another car hit it. Other cars stopped to survey the damage, and Robbie walked across the street. Sipping his tea, he pulled out his card and swiped it over the door’s lock. It opened, and he walked inside. Mr. Jives stood in the corner beside the single plant, and Robbie walked to his office without a nod or a word.

Sitting down at his desk, he turned on his computer and opened an email tab. He swiftly wrote a message, and sent it to his branch in Moscow. Then he sent a copy of it to a facility in New Mexico. He got replies back almost instantaneously, confirming that they understood their tasks and that they would perform to the best of their abilities. Robbie nodded his approval, and then deleted the emails. 

A knock sounded on his door, and Robbie called them in as he sipped some of his tea. Goggi shuffled in, carrying a few papers and folders in his arms. He dropped them all onto Robbie’s desk, looking through them to find what he needed. Peering up at Robbie through his thick glasses as he pulled out a document.

“We know where the virus originated,” Goggi breathed, handing the document over. 

Robbie looked at the document and raised an eyebrow, looking over the words and graphs. The document itself was pretty colorful, showing various graphs and charts with levels and area codes. His scientists had really done their research, and Robbie was pleased to see them doing their jobs. Maybe he would let them out a bit earlier today.

“Chelyabinsk?” Robbie murmured, not looking at Goggi.

“Yes,” Goggi nodded quickly. “W-we tracked shipments and population statistics, along with a multitude of other things. Whoever made the Chernabog Flu is in Chelyabinsk. We don’t know who, or how to stop them…b-but that is where they are, I am positive.”

Robbie hummed, “Good. Do you have any sort of lead on who this person is?”

“No, not yet,” Goggi shook his head. “I have a feeling, just between you and I, that it is either an unregistered citizen…or someone with an alias. There is not anyone in Chelyabinsk that we have found to be suspicious, at least for the moment.”

Robbie nodded, “Good work. Work on that virus, I have people working on getting a sample.”

Goggi nodded, gathering up his documents and leaving Robbie’s office. Robbie turned back to his laptop, deciding to get to work himself. He knew where this person was now, which meant he had a lead. He was not a criminal mastermind for nothing; he would be able to find them himself. Sure, he had others do his dirty work, but that was because he was lazy…not because he was incompetent. 

There were things that a lot of people in his company did not know about him, but there were also things that nobody knew about him at all. Not even Mr. Bably. One of those things was his incredible knowledge of technological and mechanical related things, such as engineering and coding. He was not that great at coding in itself, at least not to the same extent that he was with building and tinkering with things, but he could get into government regulated websites and the like without being seen. 

He searched for the resident counts in Chelyabinsk, trying to make a list of people he might find suspicious. There wasn’t really a lot to go by, only names…ages…that sort of thing. He could not really pinpoint anyone, and he did not think he would be able to this easily. No, he’d have to go there himself, and actually _look_ at the people. But, he did not want to do that…not yet. 

No, instead Robbie had decided to have a device made to attach to his phone. He had drawn up the plans himself, but had some of his employees work on actually building it. If he could not manually track whoever was calling him, then he would have to take matters into his own hands. He would find this person, if it was the last thing he did. Robbie could not help but fear that this man had some sort of leverage on him, and was simply waiting to use it. If that was the case, Robbie needed to act fast.

Robbie looked up when he heard a knock on his door, and called for the person to enter. Mr. Bably walked in with a lit cigar in his mouth, and tossed a newspaper onto Robbie’s desk with a thud. Robbie raised an eyebrow, and Mr. Bably gestured towards the paper. With a small sigh, he picked up the newspaper and looked at the headlines. His eyes widened, and he felt himself become slightly dissociated.

“Did you know about this?” Mr. Bably asked.

Robbie felt his eye twitch. His mind was filled with thoughts of knives and blood, not really focusing on anything of substantial value. Mr. Bably was speaking, but Robbie could not focus on his words. His eyes darted back and forth as they scanned the page, and then with a jolt his eyes snapped up to Mr. Bably.

 _“Who did this?”_ Robbie hissed. 

Mr. Bably made a face, “I don’t know, I was hoping you would.”

Robbie tossed the paper away, unable to look at it any longer. He picked up a pen and began to tap it against the table, staring off into nothing. Mr. Bably simply stood there, waiting for Robbie to come back to himself. After a long moment, Robbie leaned back in his seat, his eyelids lowering a little. A low chuckle began in his throat, soon bubbling up into maniacal snickers. 

“So that’s your warning…is it?” Robbie mumbled to himself. 

“Pardon?” Mr. Bably asked.

Robbie did not answer, simply leaning onto his desk with his hands folded. Mr. Bably frowned as Robbie looked up at him.

“Tell the scientists in lab one to finish my tracker by four this afternoon, and if they fail to comply I will lower their salaries substantially,” Robbie said with a dry smile. “Now get out of my office.”

Mr. Bably’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and he nodded before leaving the room. Robbie glanced at the newspaper he’d thrown off to the side, and glared at the headline. He would have to rectify this as soon as possible. 

A few minutes before Robbie was going to leave, an engineer came into his office with the finished tracker device. He took it without a word, and then got up to leave. He went home uneventfully, parking his run down truck a fair distance away from his bunker. Making his way to his phone, his yellow suit a shocking contrast to the very purple décor, he expertly attached the tracker to his phone. It had a red light on it that would indicate that it worked when the person called again, and it would transmit information wirelessly into his computer. That way, he would be able to find whoever it was that was calling.

Sitting down in his orange chair with a dramatic sigh, he turned on the television, prepared to hear the worst. The first thing he saw was the news reporter reading off of a script, and over to the right was a giant headline in bold letters.

_MEDEA VIRUS ORIGINATED IN MAYHEM TOWN, USA_

Robbie scratched his chin in thought. The FBI would certainly be investigating the entire area, and soon would reach his building. He had protocols for his employees to follow in case of situations like this, and overall he was not too concerned about it. However, it was a nuisance, and he could only take it as a warning sign from the man who was responsible for the Chernabog Flu. 

That man had the upper hand.

Robbie jumped when the phone rang, and he glared at it for a moment before answering.

“Yes?” he said with a hint of annoyance.

_”Do you watch news?”_

“Of course.”

 _”Do you like my gift?”_ ’’

The corners of Robbie’s mouth turned up slightly, and his eyes shone with a hint of anger. He leaned back in his seat, watching the concerned expression of the news anchor on the television. His gaze turned to the device attached to his phone, and grinned at the sight of the red light shining.

“I should return the favor, it’s only polite,” Robbie said airily.

The other man laughed, the sound surprisingly pleasant to hear. Robbie did not generally like laughter, at least not near him. It was usually too loud, or too annoying to listen to, but this man’s laughter was soft and dark. It had an edge to it, like he was waiting to murder something.

_”You can try, kotenok.”_

Robbie made a face, “What did you call me?”

The line went dead, and Robbie rolled his eyes as he hung up. He immediately got up and retrieved his laptop from his briefcase, and opened it to see if the device had worked. To his utmost pleasure, it had worked perfectly. Robbie knew exactly where the caller had called from. His scientists were correct in their deduction of Chelyabinsk, and now Robbie knew where the man was in the area. He decided to wait for a few more calls, just to be sure they all came from the same place, but at least now he had a lead. 

Now, he had the upper hand.


End file.
